The Future Is Unclear
by The Sushi Monster
Summary: Some stories are worth telling, despite their ambiguous and indefinable endings.
1. subzero degrees

**Title:** The Future Is Unclear  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Lemonade Mouth: some stories are worth telling, despite their ambiguous and indefinable endings.  
><strong>WarningSpoiler: **Non-linear storytelling.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T/PG-13  
><strong>Character(s)Pairing(s): **Wen/Olivia, Scott/Mo, Charlie/Victoria, Charlie/Mo

**Author's Note:** I can't believe I'm posting this in the _Good Luck Charlie_ section because that's definitely a pet peeve of mine. But I will shamelessly admit that I'm doing this so more people can see it before I move it over to the Misc. Movie section when I post the second chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>The Future Is Unclear<strong>

_1: subzero degrees_

The aroma of tomatoes, cheese, and soda tickles her nose, sending shivers through her skin. She's glad of these moments, these _grounding_ moments that bring her to reality and solidify the companionship she feels beside her band mates.

There's a bundle of brown hair on her shoulder but she doesn't mind the sleeping girl. Olivia grabs the first slice of cheese pizza on the table, gently nudging Mo from her shoulder. "Up."

"No."

"Yes. You need to eat."

Mo's grumbling and frowning, but she rubs her eyes awake and sighs. "I'm tired."

Wen laughs, his mouth covered in red. "We noticed."

Stella shoves a napkin at him, grimacing in disgust, before shooting a glare at the grinning Charlie. "Boys are disgusting." Charlie shoves a slice of sausage pizza in her face in response and Stella's grimace grows more pronounced, only fueling Charlie's amusement. "Get that out of my face," Stella demands, her voice hard.

Charlie joins Wen in laughing, but removes the pizza from Stella's bubble and takes a sip of soda. "What are you going to eat if you're stuck on a deserted island? Fruit?" he asks, half-hypothetically.

"I'm pretty sure you can get diarrhea that way," says Mo flatly, her eyes still sullen. Her hands mechanically reach for food and drink, settling the need for nourishment.

"You and your fun facts." Scott pulls up a chair beside his girlfriend, and Olivia notices that he looks just as tired as Mo. He leans over Charlie to snatch a slice of the sausage pizza; Charlie stiffens slightly but Olivia's sure she's the only one who sees.

Stella bristles. "Well, I wouldn't get stuck on a deserted island in the first place – and if I _did_ – " she continues before Wen can say anything, "I'd eat meat because it's for survival." She shoots a look at the slice of pizza in Wen's hands. "_That_ is for some disgusting pleasure."

Olivia rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Stella's vegetarianism isn't questioned, it's just accepted, but teasing her keeps her head on the ground. But Olivia still giggles when Stella flicks a mushroom at Charlie's face – he catches it in his mouth with a grin.

Wen scoots closer to her, and Olivia's nerves return to familiar state of fire. "Hey," he says softly, his whisper igniting the somersaults in her gut. "What's up with them?" His gaze is fixed upon Scott and Mo, the couple sitting with only inches apart, but their eyes refusing to meet.

Olivia shrugs with a small frown. "No idea," she whispers, taking their need to keep their voices low as an opportunity to lean her head closer to his. Her attention falls to Charlie for a moment, whose laugh interrupts her thoughts when Stella tells him something, sparking a forgotten memory. "Have you seen Victoria recently?" asks Olivia to Wen, curious that their drummer's girlfriend of eight months hadn't been hanging out with them for a while.

Wen shakes his head. "I haven't seen her since school let out. Why?"

"I was just curious," she says, forcing herself to smile.

"Oh." Wen gulps down some Coke, and Olivia smiles when a drip of soda lingers on his chin. Her smile catches his attention. "What?"

Olivia giggles, and gestures at her own chin. Wen wipes away the lingering soda, but his sticky fingers find their way to her arm. Olivia jumps away when he tries to rubs his fingers on her skin, both of them grinning. "Wen! Stop it!"

He laughs when she bumps into Mo, who's still eating silently. Mo raises an eyebrow at the pair but just shakes her head with a small smile. Olivia blushes, but glares at Wen. "Keep your fingers to yourself, young man."

"Yes, ma'am!" responds Wen, using the napkin Stella had thrown at him earlier. Olivia makes a face at him, but her grin contorts the look.

"You two are ridiculous – " starts Stella, laughing, but Charlie interrupts her, jumping out of his seat.

"Vic!" Charlie slides easily around Scott's chair, and meets Victoria in the aisle for a hug. Olivia smiles at Charlie's hand running through Victoria's hair, but her faces falls when she feels Mo's hand clench the seat. Olivia shoots a look at her friend, but Mo has plastered a smile on her face and her eyes are glued onto her boyfriend. Scott leans over and whispers something to Mo that Olivia can't catch, and before she can question it, the couple walks over to the jukebox to talk in private.

Charlie pulls up a seat for Victoria, hand in hand, and Victoria sits down demurely. Stella greets her warmly and the three strike up conversation, but Olivia turns back to Wen.

"Something's up," she states flatly, doing her best to keep her voice low. Wen gives her a questioning look. "Later," she mouths, since Charlie's asking her a question. "Sorry, what was that?" she asks.

"You guys want to hang out with Vic and I? Stella's got some family thing," adds Charlie, and Stella shrugs, slurping down her smoothie; Olivia catches tension in her shoulders though.

"Sorry, Charlie, but Wen and I were going to work on that new song today," says Olivia apologetically. "Maybe next time?"

Charlie shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, sure."

"What about Mo and Scott?"

Charlie glances at Victoria quickly, who smiles forcedly, before smiling. Olivia's sure she's the only one that catches the sadness tinting the corner of his lips. "Nah, they probably want to spend some time alone."

Wen frowns. "Oh, okay."

They escape an awkward silence, however; Scott and Mo walk over, Mo's eyes red and Scott's voice hoarse as he speaks. "Hey, so we're going to head over the movies or something."

Stella glances at her phone. "Yeah, I better go too." She throws down some cash, followed by the rest, but when Mo reaches into her purse, Scott pushes her arm aside. Olivia catches them in a silent exchange, but finally Mo gives in and she walks off, Scott's eyes following her first before his feet. Stella exits too, and Charlie and Victoria awkwardly wave as they exit out the back door.

Olivia turns to Wen, her stomach churning. "Something's definitely up."

Wen throws an arm around her shoulder, giving her a one-armed hug. "We'll figure it out, Liv. We always do."

She smiles at him, he smiles at her, and for that moment, she believes him.

* * *

><p><em>Her eyes itch. She rubs them fiercely, waiting for Scott to catch up. "What do you want?" she snaps, regretting the way her voice sounds so harsh.<em>

_ Scott sighs. "I'm sorry about last night."_

_ "No, I get it," says Mo, and while her voice is bitter, there's the undertone of sincerity. She sighs deeply when Scott's glance falls to the floor. "Scott, I get it – really."_

_ "Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_ "It was my idea," says Mo, hesitance filling her words. She doesn't want to lie to her band – her friends – but she cares for Scott, and she's pragmatic. In a band formed for friendship, the ex gets cut. She can't do that to Scott; a sleepless night had reinforced that._

_ "If you sure," echoes Scott, his voice a reminder of a far-ago conversation. There are cracks in his vocal chords, the stress from performing and losing his best friend and losing his girlfriend culminating. _

_ "I'm sure," she answers firmly, her heart clenching for a moment before releasing and beating in tranquility. _

_They stare at each other for a moment. Mo stares into his eyes and for a moment wonders why she broke up with him. But then a voice floats over, filling the silence and clenching her heart again, and she remembers. She cares for Scott, but not as much as she should, and she'd only hate herself for not putting everything into their relationship._

_ She can only be glad that the break-up was mutual, though; that Scott was losing romantic interest and that their friendship was strong enough to hold together civility. _The little things, Mohini. Remember them.

_He blinks first and together they walk back to the table, so much space between them._

* * *

><p>Stella hates this.<p>

The white walls suffocate her, edges blending together, the sterile titles patterned and routine. One brother's curled up on a chair and the other's tinkering away on some gadget, but Stella knows his thoughts are elsewhere.

Mr. Yamada enters the room, his face forever sullen and solemn.

"Well?" questions Stella, yelling at herself for that flame of hope that flickers in her chest. He shakes his head sadly and shrugs, and the stream of water drowns the candle; she wonders why she even hopes anymore.

The brother closest to her hugs her arm while the other walks over to their father and comforts him. Comfort and hugs – there's nothing else they can do.

A black part of her hates her father for not having the cure yet. He's supposed to be close, to have the foundations – but when it comes to his own wife, her _mother_, he can't seem to make it work. _What's the point of curing cancer if you can't save the one who matters most?_

Stella closes her eyes and uses her brother's arm as a pillow.

When she wakes up several hours later, she's in her bed and a Lemonade Mouth poster stares back at her from across the room; a note written in her mother's handwriting sits on her nightstand, with only a simple _it'll get better._

* * *

><p><em>"I have a present for you."<em>

_ Mo looks up from her algebra homework in surprise at his voice. "What? Why?"_

_ Charlie shrugs, taking a seat at the cafeteria table across from her, a little box in his hand. "Just 'cause. I was getting something for Victoria, and – well, open it," he says, handing over the blue gift._

_ Mo hesitates, but Charlie's smile is friendly and confident, not the puppy-dog look from ages ago. He's just a friend; he's accepted it. So she can too._

_ Her fingers run under the gift-wrap, lifting the shiny paper and revealing a small rectangular container that Mo immediately recognizes. "Rosin?" she questions with a laugh._

_ "Well you mentioned you needed some the other day," says Charlie. "And I was getting Victoria some half-bake ice cream, so I figured why not."_

_ "Thanks," she replies with a bright smile. "Really."_

_ "No problem. That's what friends are for and all that, right?" He laughs and stands, missing Mo's slight frown._

_ "Where're you going? I really don't want to do homework right now so I thought we could go get some pizza or something – " she starts, her stomach dropping a little and Mo wants to scream at her insides for acting up._

_ "Oh, sorry, Mo, but I was going to meet Victoria after she finished her article for the paper," he says, apologetically. "Some other time, 'kay?"_

_ "Right," she says, the smile on her lips unnatural but convincing. "Some other time."_

_ Mo watches him walk away, each step a rhythmic beat against her heart._

* * *

><p>The seven run into other at the grocery store.<p>

Olivia wanted Reese Pieces and Wen wanted Twizzlers, so they go for a candy run, hoping to grab some other junk food, and maybe even a movie. _Not that I was hoping for that or anything._ Wen twirls Olivia around when she starts dancing to _Breakthrough_ playing on the store's intercom.

They're about to stand in line when he spots Stella.

"Stella!" He calls out to her, not only to get her attention, but to gain himself time to process her appearance. She's in PJs and a worn t-shirt, her hair sticking up at odd angles; but most disturbing are her bloodshot eyes that her hands seem to permanently rub.

"You okay?" asks Olivia quietly, her soft voice sending Wen's insides spinning. "You look horrible."

"I'm fine – just tired," says Stella unconvincingly. "We ran out of salsa," she adds, lifting the hand carrying the item. "What about you guys? I thought you were writing a song today."

Wen rubs his neck, hoping his face isn't turning red. "Um, we were – we wanted some junk food and then we were going to rent a movie – "

"Uh, yeah, everyone else was doing other stuff so, uh, we were just going to, um, hang out – " rambles Olivia, and Wen half wants her to never stop talking and half wants to cover her mouth.

Stella laughs. "Uh huh, okay." Her voice is lighter now, as if the drowsiness from earlier has ebbed away. "Now let me get my salsa and you two can be off on your date – "

"It's not a date – "

"We're just hanging out – "

"Lies, I hear," says a voice, interrupting the defensive Olivia and Wen. Charlie raises an eyebrow at the three of them, carrying a box of cereal in one hand and holding Victoria's with the other. "Fancy running into you guys here."

"Uh huh," mumbles Wen, his face tinted in pink. "What are you guys up to?" he asks, hoping to move the attention from him and Olivia.

"Charlie and I were just heading to my house, but he wanted to pick up some cereal," answers Victoria.

"Cereal?" asks Stella with a laugh.

Charlie shrugs. "Don't question it."

Olivia giggles. "That explains so much." But she isn't the only giggle Wen hears, and when he turns around, Mo's grinning at him with Scott right behind her.

"This is an interesting reunion," says Scott. "Are we interrupting anything?"

"Nope," says Charlie, popping the 'p' quickly. "Just a little thing called coincidence."

"We can see that," says Olivia with a smile and a curious look. Wen mentally notes to question her later. She nervously looks at the cashier, who's staring at the group incredulously. "Uh, I think we should buy our stuff and get going, Wen."

"Right," he agrees, dumping their basket onto the counter. Behind him, he can hear the others awkwardly finding registers to buy their items. Wen leans into Olivia, frowning. "What's up?"

Olivia smiles at him. "The same thing from before. I'll explain at home."

"You said that earlier."

She rolls her eyes but sticks out her tongue with a smile. "I promise I'll tell you. Patience."

"You know I'm not patient."

Olivia just laughs as he pays for the candy.

When they're done, only Stella's left.

"Victoria basically dragged Charlie out, and Scott and Mo just left, something about getting Mo home soon," she says, a hint of nasal coloring her voice.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asks Olivia, concerned.

Stella nods. "I'm fine, don't worry. You kids go have fun," she jokes. Wen says nothing, but pulls his friend into a hug before leaving with Olivia.

"Do you believe her?" he asks Olivia a minute later as they make their way down the graveled pavement.

"Not really, no," she answers.

They walk in companionable silence towards her house, their plastic bag flapping in the breeze. His heart jumps into his throat every time he accidentally brushes his fingers against hers.

By the time they reach her house, their fingers are loosely intertwined.


	2. my medicine

**Title:** The Future Is Unclear  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Lemonade Mouth: some stories are worth telling, despite their ambiguous and indefinable endings.  
><strong>WarningSpoiler: **Non-linear storytelling.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T/PG-13  
><strong>Character(s)Pairing(s): **Wen/Olivia, Scott/Mo, Charlie/Victoria, Charlie/Mo, Scott/Stella, Ray/Stella

**Author's Note:** So I just realized that last chapter was symmetrical, and then this one is full of parallels and reflections. Also, I decided to remain lazy and not move this. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers – I was definitely not expecting ten reviews, let alone _twenty._ So thank you.

* * *

><p><strong>The Future Is Unclear<strong>

_2: my medicine_

_The illusion of dying hair and tired eyes grips at her; each time her eyes fall on her mother, the sight cuts into her heart. Everything's blurry and everything hurts, but her hands can't stay still and her legs are about to give out from under her._

_ Her brothers are curled up beside their mom, one at her feet and the other at her side. She's stroking one's hair, but her hands are shaking too and her eyes are stuck on Stella. Mrs. Yamada looks healthy, with mere wrinkles and bags under her eyes; she's breathing steadily and she's smiling naturally. But Stella can't help but see the shadows of darkened gazes and wrinkled skin and hoarse voices._

_ "Mom – " she says, her voice cracking and crumbling. Mrs. Yamada just nods her head, summoning her daughter towards her, and Stella flies to her mother for an embrace. The tears clog her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall, so they sit behind her pupils. They stagnate and swirl around in her stomach, and Stella's heart breaks into tiny pieces, each one cracking against the floor like shattered glass._

_ "Shh," whispers Mrs. Yamada as she comforts her children. Stella just studies her face; her parents are staring at each other, silent conversations that Stella used to wish she understood. But for that moment, the five stay in the hospital room, hoping for something to hope for._

* * *

><p>The sun is only just setting, the summer warmth sitting in the air and embracing the couple as they walk holding hands. Charlie's thumb runs across the back of her hand, and she smiles sadly at him.<p>

He's been noticing her subdued stance, her subtle displeasure. She's sad, she's upset, and he doesn't know why.

So he asks. "Victoria – what's wrong?" They stop in front of a quaint book store, the lights long off and the door long closed. Remnants of people finding their final stops for the night cloud his right side as he turns around and faces her. "You've been acting upset all night."

Victoria looks up at the sky, as if studying the twinkling stars and their mysteries. It takes a minute before she leads Charlie silently to a bench, her hand barely holding his fingers.

She pauses before speaking, her tongue lining her lips as she chooses words cautiously. "Charlie – I can't do this anymore. It's not fair to you, or to me." Her voice is soft but firm, and the iron settles in his gut. He can sense where this is heading and he doesn't like it.

"Vic – "

"No Charlie," she interrupts, continuing and letting the words fall. "I like you – you're a really sweet guy and you're attractive and I'm sure there are lots of girls out there for you." Memories of a similar rejection are evoked and he wants to scream. "But this isn't working. You're always touring or performing or _something_ and we barely spend time together." She sighs deeply and her hand lingers near his face as she pushes strands of hair from his eyes. "And you're too – too, I dunno – "

"I'm too what?" he asks bitterly, snapping his head back from her fingers and trying his best to suppress the temper that threatens to build. Boiling, he seethes internally, everything matching too well to another rejection that for some reason hurt more and hurt deeper. "Say it."

"_Innocent_," she finally says, her search for a better euphemism a failure. "You're too eager and kinda naive and I just can't – I'm sorry, Charlie, this just won't work."

"Okay," he says after a moment. She's staring at him, and Charlie knows she's doesn't _mean_ to hurt him. But every moment he's looking at her hurts his chest until finally he stands. "Can you get yourself home? Because I really want to leave now."

"Um, yeah," she stutters, watching him carefully. His shoulders feel burdened, his back seems heavy, and he just wants to _sleep_. Her eyes flash with something resembling worry, but scarlet taints every pigment. "I live on the next street, I'll be fine."

Charlie nods, his eyes darting around hoping to avoid her gaze. "Cool. Good."

"Charlie," she says and he has to look at her once more. "We'll still be friends, right?"

He can't help it, but he laughs. "Sorry, Vic, but I don't think I can. Not now, anyway." He turns around to start walking, but her voice keeps him still.

"So you can stay friends with Mo after she rejected you, but not with me?"

Her question cuts him and he doesn't know why, so he snaps. "Leave Mo out of this – this is _our_ breakup, and she doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Mo has _everything_ do with it, doesn't she, Charlie?" Victoria's voice is still soft but still hard and there are traces of pure sincerity that garble Charlie's thoughts. "You act like you like me, but you treat _Mo _like your girlfriend. You remember her favorite color, her favorite songs, her favorite foods. You get me flowers and chocolates, but you get Mo things that _matter_ – rosin, bracelets, books. Why is that Charlie?"

"She's my friend – "

Victoria laughs bitterly, but it isn't harsh. Her smooth voice cuts through his rough one. "Whatever lets you sleep at night, Charlie. But know this – no girl likes being second." And she walks away, her steps a graceful dance in the night. Charlie watches her, following her white cardigan in the breeze, until she turns the corner and is gone.

All he sees is red. He spins around and kicks the bench. Flipping hair out of his face, he stalks off towards home, ignoring the throbbing in his toes and heart.

* * *

><p>"So are you going to tell me or not?"<p>

Olivia looks up to Wen's inquiring face. Her feet are resting on his legs, both of them sprawled on a couch watching _The Breakfast Club_, and his eyes are looking at her inquisitively. Olivia glances at the TV screen – it's almost her favorite part – before pausing the movie with a sigh and facing Wen completely.

"Something's up with Charlie and Mo and Scott. And Stella," she adds, emphasizing the pause between certain names.

Wen sighs. "Yeah, I figured. Mo and Scott were acting really – well, awkward," he says simply. "And Stella's been preoccupied. But Charlie's been fine."

"For the most part, yeah," concedes Olivia, "but he's still slightly jumpy around Scott. I dunno – I don't think he's completely over Mo."

Wen snorts. "Oh, he's definitely not over Mo," he says dryly. "But I don't see why he'd be jumpy around Scott."

Olivia shrugs. "I don't know – oh well, we shouldn't be gossiping about our friends," she says with a small smile.

"True," says Wen, a hand falling onto her foot. She ignores the sudden fire that ignites her nerves, instead attempting to subtly wriggle her foot away. Wen raises an eyebrow at her movements. "Ticklish, are we?"

Olivia immediately drops all emotion from her face. "No. I was just moving it around to make it more comfortable."

Wen grins widely, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh you are _so_ ticklish, aren't you?"

"No!" she protests, but Wen has already started tickling her foot. Olivia squeals, trying to move out of the way, but Wen has her legs pinned and has moved up to her side. "Wen! Stop it!"

"Admit you're ticklish then!"

"I am _not_ ticklish – " she starts, but his fingers probe deeper into her waist and her giggles interrupt her speech. "Okay! Okay! I'm ticklish!"

"And who is the greatest person ever?"

"How is that relevant?" she asks, but he's still tickling her and she's starting to lose her breath. "Wen, you are the greatest – person – _ever;_ so stop tickling me!"

His fingers stop moving immediately, but they linger on her skin and she's staring into his eyes. Her stomach's twirling in a familiar pattern; her heart is beating incredibly fast. Her eyes keep moving to his lips, and she subconsciously realizes her tongue is running along her own lips.

There's a moment that passes in silence.

Then his lips crash into hers, and she can feel his arms snaking around her and she's still horizontal and her mind's reeling but she's kissing him back. She's kissing Wen and _this is finally happening_.

Wen breaks it off first; his breathing is irregular and she's panting but her eyes are locked onto his face. He caresses her cheek and tucks a strand of stray hair behind her ear. They say nothing, just staring at each other, until Olivia scoots forward with her knees tucked beneath her, both of them sitting up now. Wen doesn't move, his eyes fixed upon hers; she kisses him softly, hesitantly. His hand remains in her hair, but the other rests on her leg and Olivia knows that if she stops, her heart would be screaming.

But she stops later anyway, and Wen's grinning _adorably_ and Olivia can't stop beaming.

"So," she finally says, breaking the easy quiet. "Um."

"Yeah," whispers Wen, his gaze finally falling to the floor. "So, um, are you doing anything tomorrow night?" Olivia shakes her head, her heart still pounding wildly. "You want to, um, I dunno – do something?"

Olivia can't help but let the giggle escape. "Do something? How romantic," she teases him, glad that kisses can't eliminate the ease. "I'll love to do something with you, Wen," she answers, with a smile.

Wen's grin grows wider. "Wonderful. Great. Um. How does dinner sound? At seven?"

"That sounds perfect," she replies quickly, eagerly. She bites her lip and backtracks. "Uh, I mean, yes. That'd be – great."

"Great." Wen hesitates for a moment, but then he quickly lays a kiss on Olivia's forehead, and she feels the tingling begin. Wen turns back to the television. "So, um, shall we continue?"

"Right," says Olivia, trying to hide her grin, but her eyes glitter and she pulls herself against Wen's side, pressing play. His arm falls naturally around her shoulder and she leans up against him.

As she watches the dancing montage on screen, memories of paralleled moments in her own life – her heart flutters at the thought of the five of them, just hanging out doing nothing – soothe her as she sits in his arms. Nothing's perfect yet everything feels that way.

* * *

><p><em>Sticks crash onto drums, vibrating against the pulled over skin. Each beat sends a shiver down his spine, sends adrenaline pumping through his blood. Repeated rhythms, timed crashes – he slams down his hands in unison, ending the set, as his foot hits the pedal.<em>

_ He takes a deep breath and pockets his drum sticks before heading to his kitchen._

_ That's when the doorbell rings._

_ Charlie's the only one home so he opens it to find Scott staring back at him, shuffling his feet on the welcome mat. "Hey," greets Charlie, surprised. "What's up?" He swings the door open fully, but stays in the doorway._

_ "Can we talk?" says Scott, his voice laced with an emotion Charlie can't quite recognize. Anger? Sadness? Fear?_

_ "Uh, sure." Charlie moves back to let Scott in but the guitarist shakes his head._

_ "Let's just stay out here."_

_ Charlie frowns but steps outside and closes the door behind him. "So…"_

_ "I know you used to like Mo," Scott blurts out, his eyes drifting from concrete to walls. "And I know you guys are obviously still very good friends, but you're dating Victoria and Mo's dating me, so I just wanted to set things straight." His voice is firm, but there's a certain softness in it; Charlie understands that Scott's trying to be friendly and nice, but protective and stand his ground._

_Charlie mentally commends him. "Okay."_

"_I understand that you guys hang out all the time – but I'm sick of the flirting."_

_Internally, Charlie's guts jerk in a rapid rhythm – _I don't flirt with Mo, I don't, I don't – _but outwardly, he just frowns deeper. "What are you talking about?"_

_Scott sighs. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."_

_Charlie doesn't think he does, but his heart pounds a little faster and wisps of guilt churn in his stomach and he knows he does. "I don't like Mo like that. Not anymore." Even as the words leave his lips, he feels the dirty lies cake inside his mouth._

"_Okay," accepts Scott, and Charlie feels the culpable creature gnaw at his heart a little more. "I trust you."_

"_Good." Charlie dawns a smile, flashing his eyes in what he hopes is a friendly and bright manner. "Maybe we should all go on a double date some time; I'm sure Victoria will be up for it."_

"_Maybe, yeah." Scott runs a hand through his hair with a sad smile. "Well, I got to go – um, see you later at practice?"_

"_Uh, yeah," says Charlie, trying to stop the frown from falling onto his face. Scott nods goodbye, his hands stuck in his pockets, and walks away. Charlie's face falls for a moment, before he straightens his back and takes a deep breath._

_He's dating Victoria, Mo's dating Scott, and everyone's happy. That's exactly how it should be._

_His attempts at conviction only squeeze his heart some more._

* * *

><p><em> Mo takes a deep breath and knocks three times.<em>

_ The door swings open, and Victoria greets her in confusion. "Hey! What're you doing here?" She throws a hasty look behind her shoulder before turning back to Mo._

_ The bassist takes a deep breath again and plasters a friendly smile onto her face. "Hey, can we talk? If this isn't a bad time or anything – "_

_ "No, of course!" says Victoria brightly, though her eyes seem to flash in anxiety. "Something wrong? Is Charlie – "_

_ "Charlie's fine," continues Mo quickly, hoping to let the words flow smoothly. "Um, it's actually about – well, you."_

_ "Me?"_

_ "Yeah. Um, I hope this doesn't sound rude or anything – but I hope you're not leading Charlie on," says Mo, her voice quiet yet harsh, each syllable echoing across her teeth. Her eyes flitter between Victoria and her shoes, counting the pink and black specks of the concrete._

_ Victoria raises an eyebrow, her fingers running down the edge of the doorframe. She steps out of her house, shutting the door behind her. "What would make you think that?"_

_ "You haven't been around lately and Charlie's getting worried," says Mo simply. "And you and I both know he's too naïve to think the worse of you. And I hope I'm just overreacting." Mo narrows her eyes, letting her voice rise and her foot take a step forward. "Don't hurt him."_

_ Victoria laughs and the sound unnerves Mo, sending shivers down her back. "You're telling _me_ to not string Charlie along? How hypocritical of you."_

_ "What are you talking about?" Mo recoils, hurt at the accusation that she'd _ever_ hurt Charlie. She'd told him her feelings ages ago, and they were cool now. They were friends, simple as that. "Charlie knows we're just friends."_

_ "Yeah, but do you?" counters Victoria flatly. "Because you sure don't act like it."_

_ A moment passes and Mo's mind reels. "What are you talking about?" she repeats, her mouth disconnected from her mind, images and colors and sounds passing in blurs._

_ "Maybe you should ask your _boyfriend_, he might be able to answer that," says Victoria, emphasizing the existence of Scott in her life. A part of her brain scolds Mo for letting her protective instincts rule, but the other part of her polishes the light bulb. "But as for your initial concern – don't worry about Charlie. His heart will be broken one way or another."_

_ Choosing to ignore the beginning part of her response, Mo frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?"_

_ "I can't go telling Charlie's _friend_ about his breakup before him, can I?"_

_ The words sink in slowly, each sound swirling in a pattern of realization. "So you _are_ breaking up with him," states Mo, no question in her voice._

_ "I guess I am," replies Victoria softly. "So I guess your instincts were right. Maybe you should listen to them more often." Her cryptic words hover in the air before Mo for an instant, and she wonders if Victoria knows more than she lets on. Mo wonders if she's missing something, if there's something that she should _see_ but can't. But before Mo can process any further, Victoria smiles again and steps back. "If that's all – "_

_ "Um, right," says Mo awkwardly, glancing at her feet and stepping backwards. "I'll see you around, I guess."_

_ "Maybe," says Victoria with finality in her tone. She swings open the door and steps into her refuge. "Good luck, Mo. And listen."_

_ "Listen?"_

_ "Listen," repeats Victoria, her smile a little kinder and little more amused. "Bye."_

_ The door shuts closed and Mo blinks at the white frame and red door. She stands in silence for thirty seconds, allowing her breathing to regulate, before spinning around and leaving._

Listen. Listen to your instincts._ Mo wants to laugh it off, but something tickles the edges of consciousness and Mo just wants to _know_ what to do. The frustration builds in her chest and she wants to scream; but moreover, she wants to cry and she wants to do it with _his _arms around her. And that scares her the most._


	3. a puppet

**Title:** The Future Is Unclear  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Lemonade Mouth: some stories are worth telling, despite their ambiguous and indefinable endings.  
><strong>WarningSpoiler: **Non-linear storytelling.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T/PG-13  
><strong>Character(s)Pairing(s): **Wen/Olivia, Scott/Mo, Charlie/Victoria, Charlie/Mo, Scott/Stella, Ray/Stella, Charlie/Stella

**Author's Note:** This chapter ended up being chock-full of friendship and it wasn't even supposed to be that way? Oh well, friendships are the heart of this band, movie, and story. So take it as it comes, I guess. Thank you to everyone who alerted and favorite-d (there were a _lot_ of you!), but more of my gratitude goes to those lovely reviewers – even if there were fewer of you, every word you say matters. I could only hope for more criticism, really.

Because this chapter is a bit longer than usual, the next chapter's a tiny bit shorter. Also, since review replies aren't working: _One Temporary Escape_ will be worked on during the summer, probably; I want to focus on this fic right now.

* * *

><p><strong>The Future Is Unclear<strong>

_3: a puppet_

_He studies the screen for a solid thirty seconds before tossing the phone aside and concentrating on the book in front of him. The phone vibrates continuously, muffled slightly by the castaway clothes, but his hearing is acute: he can still sense the repeated texts, apologizes, pleas._

_ He continues to ignore them._

_ His finger follows the lines across the page. His eyes see each word and letter; he recognizes the words. But his mind flies away, pondering colors and sounds and people. He doesn't want the world to distract him, but it does; so he sighs, shuts his history textbook, and spins in his chair. He hears a shout from below but he squeezes his eyes shut. He inhales deeply, letting tranquility settle within him. There's a moment where he glares at the door, debating his options. But in the end, his hand grabs his phone mechanically. He heads to the window, climbs out, and is gone; the night is his only ally._

* * *

><p>The bright sunlight blinds her, each ray of intensity burning through her shades. Stella frowns at the chirping birds and laughing children as she walks down the park sidewalk, one hand fisted in her sweatshirt pocket and the other fidgeting against her side. Green blurs into black, trees and roads melting together. She stuffs both hands into the front of her baggy sweatshirt when she sits down on the park bench, lifting her head backwards and staring at the sky.<p>

She just stares at the leafy branches and the gliding clouds, recalling a far away memory. A smile teases the corner of her lips at the thought of aliens and flowers and umbrellas, but her face falls when a cloud passes over the sun, blocking the light. Darkness reigns again, twisting in her chest, and flashes of _cancercancercancer_ ring in her head. She wants to scream, to yell, to shout – but there are people around and her eyes are killing her.

She's about to rub her face with her palms when a throat clears and someone sits down beside her.

"Hey," he says, awkwardly and hesitantly, but not unfriendly or unkindly. "You okay?"

Stella lets herself scoff. "I'm peachy," she says sarcastically. "Just perfect."

"Stella," says Scott firmly, his voice drawing her attention and canceling her will to be wry. "What's wrong?"

A silent dread flitters through her at that moment; the mixture of sadness and guilt and discomfort weighs down her tongue, her throat drying at the sight of his inquisitive eyes. "My mom has cancer."

The words are foreign on her lips: it's the first time she's said it out loud. Her gaze remains on the paved streets, on the passing cars. She can't bear to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, to see his pity. Part of her wishes she'd told someone else first – Wen or Olivia or even Mo – but then she finally looks at Scott and he's frowning thoughtfully.

"That explains a lot," he says simply. He tries to smile, but it's forced and sad; the glitter of sympathy that rests beneath his eyes stabs her repeatedly. "Have you told the others?"

"No." Stella lets her eyes wander again, staring off into the indefinable distance, as Scott uncomfortably shifts positions on the bench.

"Why not?" he asks; there is no accusation or confusion in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

Stella bites her lip, clouds of emotions rising steadily, threatening to take over. "I don't know," she answers honestly. "I don't even know why I told you." Scott says nothing in response, and she sighs deeply, sinking into her seat and stretching her legs in front of her. Eyelashes flutter before her vision and she rests her fingers on her stomach. "This is stupid."

"Welcome to life," he says, "home of the unfair, idiotic, and unchangeable."

"I want a refund," jokes Stella lightly. Scott laughs and she has to look at him again. She understands why Mo gushes about him now; she understands why Mo insists he's a wonderful guy. He _is_.

Scott spots the corner of her lips turning upward and he raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Thank you," she says with gratitude and fondness mixing. "I'm glad you're our friend now, Scott Pickett."

"Me too, Stella Yamada. Me too." He says it with a twinkle and grin, but she can hear an emotion tinting the voice, choking and stammering under pressure. She doesn't question it though. Scott's a great guy and he's her friend, but they're not _that_ close. So she beams in his direction and he nods silently, and the two depart ways in two different directions.

A connection remains behind on that bench that day, germinating and stretching and building.

* * *

><p><em>Victoria grandly hands him the article with pride and he can't escape the smile that tugs at his lips. "You're cute," he says.<em>

_ She rolls her eyes. "Just read it."_

_ Charlie glances at the words so artfully chosen by his girlfriend and studies their meaning and their significance. As they sink in, his smile falls into a frown, growing longer and deeper._

_ "Vic – this is about us."_

_ "Yes it is," she says eagerly, happily, and his stomach falls some more. "You're looking at the first official Mesa High School Lemonade Mouth correspondent." She poses with a hand on her hip and a hand extended upwards, but his attention is focused on the article in front of him._

_ "You told everyone about Liv's parents. I told you that in confidence," he says, trying to remain calm and composed. "And you talked about us – our love life." His voice stammers a little, and he doesn't know if he's angry or upset or sad or confused or afraid or glad. "Vic – "_

_ She cuts him off with a finger to his lips. "Charlie, keeping it a secret wasn't doing us any good and you know it." He's about to admit to himself that he does know when she continues. "And you _know_ I had to have something juicy in it for people to actually read it! I didn't mention _why_ Mr. White went to jail or for how long or anything."_

_ "Still," he responds, trying to ignore that his heart tells him to run but his hormones are screaming at him to just give it up. She smiles at him widely, sensing his inclination to give in. "This isn't cool."_

_ "Uh huh, sure," she says, taking a step forward towards him, closing the distance from feet to inches. Her nose grazes his, her lips caress his and then she kisses him. "Whatever you say."_

_ His stomach flip-flops and his heart soars, but something's nagging and pulling; it suffocates under her lips and fingers and grins. "I'm still mad at you," he whispers into her hair when she wraps her arms around him._

_ "Hmm, if you say so."_

* * *

><p>The sun is cooking his skin and sheets when he wakes up; it's past noon, a glance at his alarm clock tells him, and he feels oddly elated. A smile is glued onto his lips and he resists the urge to whistle in happiness. He lets himself quickly jot down some lines – some lyrics – before gliding to the shower.<p>

His smile never falls.

He's dressed and ready to start the day when he hears a sharp rapping on his door.

"Wen! Your friend is here!" Sydney's echoes glides effortlessly throughout the house, as if the walls and ceilings were made perfectly to suit her vibrations.

"Which one?" he shouts back as he quickly runs a comb through his hair.

There's a shuffling of feet in the hall, Sydney's bright laugh, and footsteps on the stairs. "Me," comes the answer from outside his door. "Let me in."

Wen frowns at the edge in the voice, but swings the door open, letting Charlie in without comment. The drummer runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat on the bed while Wen dunks a towel into his hamper. "What's up?" asks Wen, concerned and curious, but also a little annoyed. _Why can't you be blonde and a girl and named Olivia?_

"Vic broke up with me," says Charlie flatly, blandly, numbly. Wen stares – immediately a flood of guilt and sympathy and relief rushes through him.

"Oh," responds Wen. "I'm sorry." Charlie's fists are clenched and he looks angry so Wen sighs and sits in his desk chair. "Why?"

"It's stupid," says Charlie, grinding his teeth, but Wen spots sadness in his eyes and frustration in his shoulders. "She said it was because of Mo."

Wen tries not to let exasperation leave him – he suppresses the sigh of frustration and the lack of surprise. He dawns an expression of bafflement: "what? Mo?"

Charlie just glares in response. "Don't act all surprised," he says bitterly. "I know you think I still love her."

"You do," replies Wen bluntly. He's happy and this sadness upsets him. "Vic did you a favor, breaking up with you. Not only does this allow you to _actually_ get over Mo this time, it lessens the chance for you to end up with a rebound. Again."

Charlie grimaces. "Vic wasn't a rebound."

"If you say so."

Wen lets the moment pass in silence as Charlie groans into his hands. Annoyance and frustration fade into worry and guilt; he berates himself for ever wishing to replace Charlie with Olivia. That's when realization hits – he might have gotten a girlfriend, but Charlie's lost his. _Bros before hoes, friendship friendship friendship_. The conscious mantra echoes in his mind, but it fades as he lets his chest relieve the burden building.

"So your timing is kind of awful," says Wen hesitantly a little while later.

"Why?"

"Um, well, I was actually going to tell you about something that happened to me last night," says Wen quickly, forcing the words out before his brain caught up with his tongue. "Olivia and I kissed."

Charlie blinks, but a sincere grin slowly breaks out onto his face. It brightens his face and eyes; it's contagious, Charlie's smile, and Wen soon finds himself grinning giddily again. "Finally," says Charlie with a laugh. "About time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Even _I_ knew you two would get together eventually," explains Charlie with an eye roll. He's brighter and animated and maybe telling him was a good idea. "And I'm Mr. Oblivious."

Wen laughs at that. "That you are." He stares at his feet for a second. "The timing's funny, I guess."

"Sure." Charlie's smile is fading again, but it doesn't deepen into a frown; rather it stays in between: a cross between disappointment and relief and happiness and frustration and confusion. Wen's heart sympathizes with the complex reaction.

"So, um, what're your plans today?"

Charlie snorts bitterly. "I was _going_ to go to Vic's interview with some big agent or something, but obviously that isn't happening. You?"

"I didn't really have plans. I have a date with Olivia at seven though."

"Aw," says Charlie teasingly, "how cute. Wenny and Olive, sitting in a tree…"

"Oh don't start," groans Wen, standing up and heading over to the door. "C'mon, we're getting pizza and then hitting the arcade."

"Are we?" says Charlie with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile.

"Yes. Up."

Charlie laughs but joins him without protest; Wen lets himself just revel in the masculinity and the companionship, forgetting Olivia and Victoria and girls in general – it's a man's world now.

* * *

><p><em>Her finger traces the edge of the paper, a smile resting on her lips. Her heart's fluttering happily and her eyes are bright; she's happier – she's glad she agreed to finally do it. The letter's words stare back at her, each sentence a message of longing and compassion. Olivia misses it; she misses <em>him_._

Dear Olive,

I was so happy to hear from you again! I was afraid that your first letter was a fluke and that you'd suddenly decide not to write back to me. But anyway, I enjoyed reading the story about Charlie and Stella – it seems they really love antagonizing each other. Honestly, I'm surprised Scott and Mo are still together – but what do I know about love?

But I wanted to warn you, Olive honey. A couple of days ago I had a visitor – it was the widow of the store owner. Yes, that one I unfortunately killed. She just wanted to see me, for closure I guess, and I might have accidentally mentioned you. So if a tall, blonde woman suddenly takes an interest in you, let me know and don't worry too much. She seems nice and sane enough; she has a daughter, I think, and she mentioned something about a son in a first marriage. But feel free to avoid her if you don't feel comfortable talking to her; I think she misses her husband very much. But who could blame her?

I hope Lemonade Mouth is treating you well! Good luck on the new gigs and hopefully when I get out of here I don't have to pay _too_ much for an autograph from the lovely front(wo)man.

Love,

Dad

_She outlines the curve of the indentations with her hand while she grins to herself. The chance to meet someone who was affected by her father's hurtful actions scares her, but the opportunity to defend him excites her. Juxtaposition weighs down the corners of her lips, but she grins anyway._

_ Unfortunately, not everyone seems to like grinning blondes._

_ "Well, if it isn't Miss Olivia herself."_

_ Startled, Olivia jumps on her bench, positioned in the corner, but frowns at the sight of Ray strutting towards her. He's flanked on either side by his groupies – Patty smiles hesitantly at her while Jules chews her gum with flourish, ignoring everything about her existence. Olivia turns back to her letter, choosing to ignore them, but Ray won't be deterred._

_ "Oh, does Olive not have enough time for us underlings? Too famous for us?" he sneers bitterly, taking a step closer. Olivia sighs but draws the paper to her chest, curling her back into a shell._

_ "Ray, just leave her alone," says Patty quietly, but Jules glares at her._

_ "Shut up, Patty. She deserves it." Jules turns her nose at Olivia, grimacing in disgust. "She consorts with bitches who think they're worth more than they are."_

_ Olivia frowns again, piecing together her insults, and the anger begins to boil in her chest. "Shut up, Jules."_

_ "She speaks!" declares Ray laughing. "One would think you were mute."_

_ "Leave me alone, Ray," says Olivia, about to shove her note into her pocket, but Ray snatches it out of her hand with quick reflexes. "Hey, give that back!"_

_ "I will," agrees Ray, grinning widely, "but let me read it first, don't you say?" Olivia begins to protest, to interject, but Ray cuts her off smoothly. "'Dear Olive,'" he reads loudly and the snickers from Jules have already started, "'I was so happy to hear from you again!' Oh god, this is going to be super sappy, isn't it?"_

_ Red. Everything's red and she wants to cry and scream and _punch _him, but she doesn't. She sits silently, blushing harder every minute, letting the hot blood flow through her. Ray's continuing to read now, adding comments here and there and Olivia's frozen, staring at the words in his hands._

_ Just when Ray starts the second paragraph, she hears footsteps and she sinks deeper into herself, retreating. She rolls her eyes at Jules' snickers and Patty's stoic posture; but her eyes widen when Mo walks down the hallway, her heels clicking against the titles._

_ "What's going on here?" Her eyebrows are raised and her voice is high, but she's frowning deeply and Olivia couldn't be more grateful to be her best friend. "What is that?" Mo's eyes narrow at the paper in Ray's hands. "Give it to me," she commands directly, harshly, but Ray just laughs at her._

_ "Why would I, Benedict Arnold?"_

_ "Because," says Mo, taking a step forward and letting her bag fall to the floor, "that's _my_ friend's letter you have there. And stop calling me that."_

_ "I'm so scared," he jokes. "What are you going to do – spit lemonade all over me?"_

_ Mo just chuckles, amused, and walks over to Olivia, offering her a hand. Olivia accepts, lifting herself up, and tries not to cower behind the other girl. Mo grins back at Ray wryly. "Stella took care of that for me," she replies simply. "I think you'll understand that as Scott Pickett's girlfriend, I'm privy to lots of information." Her eyes glitter and flash and suddenly Ray's not grinning anymore. "Things that could get people arrested, for example."_

_ Ray gulps noticeably and Olivia's eyes shoot to Mo, surprised at her ability to blackmail so effortlessly. Mo seems calm and composed, but Olivia notices tension in her shoulders, a shiver down her arm, a shake in her fingers. Olivia's heart shatters and breaks and flies together all in one moment._

_ "You wouldn't," says Ray threateningly, but his voice shakes. "You wouldn't _dare_."_

_ "I would," she retorts, "if you continue to harass Olivia. Or Stella or Wen or Charlie."_

_ "I see you left the other losers out of it."_

_ Her response is short and simple, cool and unkind. "I'm not stupid."_

_ Ray stares at the two of them in silence, as if studying a morphing insect, before stomping off. Jules follows him without hesitation, only shooting a muttered "bitch" behind her. But Patty lingers for a moment; she picks up the folded note that Ray has dropped and hands it to Olivia with a sad smile and nods at Mo. She leaves quickly, her heels clinking against the floor loudly and clumsily._

_ Olivia stares at her hand, at the note, and she can feel Mo's eyes on her. "Thank you," whispers Olivia softly, "really."_

_ Mo shrugs nonchalantly, lifting her bag's straps over her shoulder. The tension in her shoulders has lessened to a slouch, but Olivia sees her unsteady fingers. "Anytime." The two head for the school's exit, side by side. Mo never asks what the note says; Olivia never tells her how much it means to her. The two just walk off in companionable silence._


	4. fresh air

**Title:** The Future Is Unclear  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Lemonade Mouth: some stories are worth telling, despite their ambiguous and indefinable endings.  
><strong>WarningSpoiler: **Non-linear storytelling.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T/PG-13  
><strong>Character(s)Pairing(s): **Wen/Olivia, Scott/Mo, Charlie/Victoria, Charlie/Mo, Scott/Stella, Ray/Stella, Charlie/Stella

**Author's Note: **This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Chelsea on Tumblr who not only makes magnificent graphics, but ships my OTPs and that's always fun. I wanted to put in a Wen/Olivia moment but it wouldn't fit unless I made an unrelated flashback and it was already getting a bit long. Sorry this is so late, but happy really-belated birthday! (It other news… it's my birthday today, ahah.) But don't worry there's _lots_ of Wen/Olivia coming up in chapter six.

I'll take this moment to self-advertise: I've posted two one-shots now for this fandom – one's a Charlie/Mo, one's Jules-centered. Do note that the latter one is for mature audiences, while rated T. Please do check those out if you haven't already done so.

Thanks to all my reviewers, especially the ones that take the moment to leave _actual_ feedback. I'd rather hear what you don't like than just an "update soon!" as much as I appreciate those. So _please_, if you have a moment, then do leave a constructive review.

* * *

><p><strong>The Future Is Unclear<strong>

_4: fresh air_

Mo eyes the new dress in awe of the layered violet fabric, frayed edges teased against the bright sunshine accents. The clothes attract her fingers, drawn to their details and patterns; she sighs when her hands automatically check the price tag, however, and drops the paper and the dress. She steps back and glances at all the clothes – the dresses, the shoes, the accessories, the shirts – before forcing herself to turn around and out of the store.

She wanders the mall, gaze darting from side to side, inhaling all the shops and their goods. Her feet take her to the local _Barnes and Nobles_, so Mo begins studying the shelves and the many colored books. Engrossed in the differences between the paperback and hardback versions of _Paper Towns_, she doesn't notice when he walks up beside her; she jumps when he clears his throat to attract her attention.

"Oh!" she spins around and automatically grins when she sees him. "Scott!"

He's grinning awkwardly – yet happily – and he rubs the back of his scalp, sending strands of hair flying messily. She can remember when it sent her heart whirling. "Hey Mo," he greets her, voice deep and collected. "What's up?"

Mo shrugs nonchalantly, stepping back from the shelf. "Just window shopping." She turns to face him as they awkwardly block the path in the bookstore. "What about you?"

"I was just looking for a new guitar strap since Stella broke mine," he answers, "when I saw you." He starts walking towards the exit and she quickly falls in step beside him, a routine familiar and recognizable; she feels the flyaway yearning for the past swirl before her but she ignores it, pushes past it, trying her best to embrace the future. Scott, meanwhile, continues. "So how are you?"

"I'm fine," she says, ignoring the rising blue that threatens to spill over. "My dad wants me to get an internship."

"Isn't it kinda late for that?" questions Scott. "It's almost August."

"Yeah," she replies, "but I think he means a part-time one for the rest of the year."

Scott frowns, and his concern lights some sort of fire. "Sophomore year isn't easy; that's a lot of work."

"I'm already volunteering at the hospital, I think I can handle it," responds Mo defensively.

"I didn't think you couldn't," says Scott slowly, realizing he's stepped over some sort of line. He treads carefully: "I'm just worried."

Mo doesn't respond; the two keep walking, past stores and sites and people, until the music store appears before them. Suddenly, she no longer wants to pretend and she just wants a clean break and she just wants to run. "I think I'm going to head over to the Starbucks," says Mo, crinkling her eyebrows and running hands in her hair. "Good luck finding that strap."

Scott blinks but nods slowly. "Oh. Um, I'll see you later then?"

"Sure."

Mo starts walking away; she hears Scott almost say something, but she disregards it and only turns around a minute later – and he's gone. Her heart sinks a little, but somehow she feels better, freer, so instead of buying coffee she heads back to the bookstore. But she never makes it there.

"Mo?"

This time she pauses; warmth already tingles in her toes as she turns around and her small smile beams at him. "Hey, Charlie, what are you doing here?"

"Wen and I were just hanging out and he ran off at the sight of some video game and well, I saw you so…" His voice is light but tensed and Mo frowns at the awkwardness that taints his words.

"Something wrong?" she asks, her worry tangible.

Charlie tenses and Mo notices a balled fist in his pocket. "Crappy night," he answers blandly and without explanation. Mo raises an eyebrow at him but when Charlie starts looking everywhere but at her, she decides to drop it.

"I'm sorry. My night wasn't any better," she says instead softly. "My dad's been on my case again recently and I just need to – " she searches around her for the right words, for the right piece to finish the broken puzzle, " – _get away_," she finishes, glittering eyes meeting. Her stomach lurches, flittering ghosts in her gut, but she blinks and suppresses the feelings, looking away. _No, no, no – I don't deserve this. I don't deserve _him_. He's with Victoria. _She ignores the nagging voice that chants _for now for now for now_ repeatedly in her head. Her moral compass remains unwaveringly due north, and she isn't about to mess with the magnetic field.

Charlie smiles at her though, and thinking seems harder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Just sitting in the house can feel – suffocating."

Mo nods in agreement, smiling widely. "Exactly!" She remembers when she knew he'd understand her no matter what; she remembers when she knew he'd be there no matter what. Now, she's standing before a line that she refuses to cross, before a guy she can't obtain – _shouldn't_ obtain – and a harness that binds her backward to the familiar and the safe.

Charlie's about to open his mouth to comment when an interruption cuts between them, grinning widely. "Mo! Fancy meeting you here," says Wen brightly, although Mo can sense a hesitation in his shoulders. Inwardly, she frowns as suspicion rises; but she grins at Wen outwardly.

"Hey, yeah, I was just telling that to Charlie," she says smoothly. Suddenly the unease is back, bubbling lightly under the surface, despite the calm winds that try to placate. "Um, yeah, but I got to go, sorry guys. I'll see you later, maybe?"

"Oh right," says Charlie, something like disappointment in his voice. "See you Mo."

Wen's just shrugging. "'Kay. Bye." He turns to Charlie nonchalantly and the two head off in the opposite direction without another goodbye.

Mo's left standing alone; her eyes follow passing strangers, focused inward, but she only sees empty features and null space.

Something like confusion continues to boil.

* * *

><p><em>After school, the hallways are silent.<em>

_ She walks down the empty corridors, no students to distract and no teachers to reprimand. She walks slowly, taking time to absorb the sound of her shoes on tiles and her fingers on concrete bricks. She turns a corner, entering the main lobby, and that's when she finds him._

_ He's sitting on a bench, just staring at his feet, his fingers intertwined lazily. He doesn't notice her when she interrupts his loneliness; he doesn't notice her at all. And for some reason, it unnerves her. Half of her wants to just keep walking, past him and his distracted thoughts, out the door and home. But the other half of her wins out, and she slowly makes her way towards him. "Ray?" she questions softly, hoping her voice doesn't startle him as it echoes against the quiet._

_ His head snaps up abruptly and at first he's so surprised to see her that his face remains passive and sad. But then he contorts his lips into the familiar sneer. "What do you want?"_

_ Stella sighs, regret already seeping in. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay; no need to be snappy," she says flatly._

_ "Oh," says Ray, and his voice softens momentarily, but he continues to grimace. "Yeah, well, I'm fine so just leave me alone."_

_ "Fine," answers Stella, shrugging. She steps back to move towards the door; her hand is inches away from the handle when his voice reaches her again._

_ "Thanks." It's barely a whisper, but it's soft and heart-felt and for a moment Stella wonders if she understands Ray at all. But then he continues: "I still hate your band though."_

_ Stella just rolls her eyes and shoots a, "likewise," back at him before stalking out and leaving._

* * *

><p>He walks past the school, a shortcut between the mall and home, expecting the usual nothingness that accompanies the lonely walk. But he's surprised by a blonde bob of hair, floating across the courtyard, taping bright pink sheets to the walls. Frowning, Scott drags his feet in her direction, until the words on the notice grab his eyes and he feels his stomach drop.<p>

"What the hell, Victoria?" he snaps, the author clearly evident in the message. She spins around, her eyes a little wider and her face a little redder. "What did we ever do to you?"

But Victoria holds her ground, feet firmly planted and hands very steady. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Scott," she replies calmly. "I'm merely informing the students at Mesa High about their fellow classmates."

He feels anger boiling within him, a battle between his cooled-temper and his fierce loyalty. "You're a liar. If Charlie doesn't break up with you after this – "

"Charlie and I already broke up, even though it's done of your business," Victoria cleanly interrupts. Her voice still contains that soft edge that grates at Scott's nerves, but keeps him silenced. "And I'm not lying. Everything on this sheet is the absolute truth."

"Me and Mo are still together," he almost hisses, trying his best to subdue the scarlet fever that builds in his head. "And I definitely did _not_ kiss either Jules _or_ Olivia."

Victoria shakes her head with a wry smile. "Okay Scott, whatever you say."

"I can't believe you," says Scott, suddenly tired and less angry. "You were our _friend_ – and even if you aren't Charlie's girlfriend anymore, it doesn't mean you have to be so – _bitter_."

"I'm not bitter," says Victoria, her voice snapping for once. "And you were never my friend, Scott," she continues, her voice smoothing out once more. "We were like in-laws: both dating into the family. Except this family happens to be incestuous."

Scott says nothing, just staring at her in disbelief. He watches her as she silently returns to her work, taping up flyers without guilt or remorse. Half his heart burns in sorrow as he laments her fall into the depths of animosity. The other side of him weeps for himself – he watches as his double, his in-law, succumbs to the power of human emotion and he worries that maybe one day he might join her.

Victoria doesn't say another word to him, pointedly ignoring his presence for the next couple of minutes, so Scott walks away, each step pregnant with the deadly combination of sorrow and worry.

* * *

><p><em>The sun's almost setting and her eyes are starting to grow heavy, but she doesn't turn back. She swings open the door, wafts of tomato sauce and cheese greeting her, and isn't surprised to find him sitting at a table, alone.<em>

_ "Hey Scott," greets Olivia warmly, shyly, although determination taints every syllable._

_ "Olivia! Hi," he says, surprised, but welcoming. He motions to the seat across from his slice of pizza with a, "sit, join me." Wordlessly, Olivia takes the free space, eyeing the trail of sauce on Scott's chin. Her attention turns to the table when Scott starts studying her. "So what's up?" he curiously asks, his mouth half-full._

_ Olivia hesitantly speaks, her voice stammering. "Um – well – uh, I just wanted to talk to you about – well, the band."_

_ Scott lowers the pizza from mouth to plate. "What about it?"_

_ "We want you to join," she answers quickly, letting the words flow without thought. "Mo told us about how you guys are back together – and well, after what you did for us the other night at Rizing Star – "_

_ "It was nothing," he replies unconsciously. "I had to."_

_ "No, you didn't," she says with a small smile. "It was nice." Scott merely shrugs and Olivia awkwardly glances at him for a moment. "I know – I know Mo forgave you and that she trusts you – but I just – "_

_ "What," he interrupts, suddenly frowning. "You don't?"_

_ Olivia sighs. "I came here to ask you to join the band. I think we could be friends, Scott, but I'm Mo's best friend first and foremost – she'll always be first." Olivia prides herself on the way she keeps her voice steady with a semblance of control, while her insides shake uneasily. "Just so you know."_

_ Scott nods thoughtfully. "I understand. But – you want me to join the band?" he repeats incredulously._

_ "Yes."_

_ "Really?"_

_ "Yes," repeats Olivia, laughing a little. "Having another guitar player could be fun. Stella even agreed."_

_ Scott stares at her in shock, ignoring pizza and soda. Olivia's amused at the way his eyes widen and stretch, the way his jaw drops ever so slightly, and the way he stammers out his answer. "Wow – um, well, I accept," he laughs. "If there was ever any doubt."_

_ Olivia shrugs. "You might have decided you didn't want to be in a band with Mo."_

_ "Why would I ever think that?"_

_ "Because," says Olivia, her explanation tittering hesitantly in her throat, "it could be awkward."_

_ Scott just laughs. "Don't worry about it, Olivia," he says smoothly, happily. "This will work out perfectly."_

_ Olivia smiles, letting herself believe him; she ignores the nagging doubt that gnaws at her stomach. _This will work_, she repeats to herself_. Everything else has.


	5. the spotlight

**Title:** The Future Is Unclear  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Lemonade Mouth: some stories are worth telling, despite their ambiguous and indefinable endings.  
><strong>WarningSpoiler: **Non-linear storytelling.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T/PG-13  
><strong>Character(s)Pairing(s): **Wen/Olivia, Scott/Mo, Charlie/Victoria, Charlie/Mo, Scott/Stella, Ray/Stella, Charlie/Stella

**Author's Note:** Shout out to W and O for reading over some scenes for me. (: And O again for convincing me to post tonight. You'll also notice that I'm incorporating book characters (and RP...) into this movie!verse... I'm basically using characters as needed, so yeah. If you're wondering where I'm getting these names from, most of them are from the book.

* * *

><p><strong>The Future Is Unclear<strong>

_5: the spotlight_

It's nearing four in the afternoon when Olivia finally gives up pretense of remaining calm. She sends an identical text to both lifesavers, hoping at least one of them – if not both – would be able to prevent her self-destruction from an amalgam of anxiety and excitement.

There's only one knock on the door ten minutes later, but her Gram yells to her that she has visitors (in the plural, Olivia notes, and a flash of relief floods through her.)

The first words out of Mo's mouth do little to surprise Olivia. "_You're going out on a date with Wen_," squeals Mo and Stella rolls her eyes, but she's grinning widely and almost _proudly. _Olivia nods quietly, but her grin threatens to split her face and Mo squeals again, grabbing Olivia into a tight embrace.

"So I'm guessing," begins Stella slyly, her wide beam never leaving her face despite the dark lines under her eyes, "this is a fashion emergency?" Mo releases Olivia, and the latter twirls her hair around her index finger nervously.

"Well, I just might be having a mental breakdown," clarifies Olivia, taking a seat next to Mo on her bed as Stella stands before them. "So any advice at all would be welcome."

Mo jumps up quickly off the mattress, startling Olivia into a tiny bounce, and heads straight for the closet. "I'll handle wardrobe; Stella, you keep her calm." They effortlessly begin working, and Olivia admires the way they know her so well: Mo bypasses all of the dresses in the front hangers while Stella immediately begins to play with her hair.

"Relax," says Stella, running fingers through blonde tangles. "This is _Wen_. There's nothing you could do to embarrass yourself that would make him see you any differently. He's seen you throw up, he's seen you first thing in the morning, he's seen you fall off Mo's couch – you'll be fine."

Olivia smiles a little. "I know that, but – still. Tonight – tonight needs to be… perfect," she whispers the last word, but it vibrates against the air clearly.

"It will be," reassures Mo, smiling gently. She offers up a modest, yet flattering, black and white dress – instantly Olivia knows it's perfect. Grinning, Olivia takes it into hand as Mo stands back smugly.

"Thanks," says Olivia to Mo, but Mo just shrugs. "You guys are amazing."

"Nah," corrects Stella, fixing Olivia's bangs and tying a loose braid on the edge of her hair. "We just know you and we know Wen and we know the two of you together." Olivia sits quietly, a warm blush coloring her face, as Stella finishes with her hair and Mo grabs some accessories that lie haphazardly across Olivia's unorganized desk. Mismatched hair ties and discarded earrings tangle together, as chains and pendants glitter in the receding rays of sunlight.

Olivia glances down at her hands; they're full of fabric, but she struggles to keep them steady. She inhales deeply, lowering her heartbeat, and steps into the bathroom. In the corner of her eye she spots the other two exchange looks, but Olivia ignores it; she's fine, perfectly fine, just excited and dreadfully nervous.

The dress fits, the accessories match, her hair flows, and everything's perfect.

So when Mo and Stella finally leave – with an hour to spare – Olivia sits on her bed, wringing her hands with closed eyes, humming spare melodies and soon-forgotten harmonies.

* * *

><p><em> Black.<em>

_ Black surrounds him: from the black stage, to the darkened auditorium, to the pitch black air, chilling and stifling. The echoes of their previous notes have faded away, but light footsteps resonate against the thick space. Wen's eyes open when the void beside him is suddenly filled, and slivers of gold brighten the warming dark._

_ "Hey," says the figure, "what's up, bro?"_

_ Wen sighs and even though light fills the room, everything feels dark. "Nothing, just… tired."_

_ Scott chuckles. "Aren't we all – I can't wait 'till summer," he says dreamily and Wen can't help it when the inklings of a smile creep to his lips. "No school, free time, no sisters to take care of…"_

_ "I didn't know you had sisters," says Wen, his eyebrow furring._

_ "Yeah, two," says Scott. "Stacy and Susan – they're annoying little things."_

_ Wen laughs. "I sympathize, my friend. Georgie can be a real pain."_

_ "Does she start singing the Spice Girls randomly whenever you're trying to study?"_

_ "Tell me what you want, what you really, really want – " sings Wen bitterly, but he's grinning and Scott bursts out laughing. "It's been stuck in my head for the past _week._"_

_ "Yeah, that happened to me and _Baby_," says Scott, shuddering. His feet hang off the edge of the stage, swinging back and forth in sync with Wen's, the two staring ahead of them. "If I ever hear Justin Beiber again – "_

_ "Baby, baby, baby _oh_ – " croons Wen teasingly, and he dodges Scott when attempts to punch him. "Hey, hey, watch it dude."_

_ "Then stop singing." Wen rolls his eyes but says nothing and Scott nods. "Good. I'm going to hear enough of him at the benefit concert this summer."_

_ "I heard about that – Sydney's really into that kind of stuff and she has a friend who works there and everything…"_

_ "Yeah, Mom won tickets at her work, so we're all going," says Scott, with a bitter, "lucky me." Scott rolls his eyes, his face lit up by a small smile that Wen envies. Wen laughs in response but it doesn't fully reach his gut._

_ A silence returns, four other shadows having packed up and exited. Wen jumps down from the stage a moment later and Scott just stares at him, his left hand still resting on guitar strings._

_ "I better get going – Georgie'll be home soon and since Dad and Sydney are on their honeymoon – "_

_ "You have to watch her," finishes Scott. "Have fun," he adds sarcastically and Wen almost gives him a one-fingered response in jest, but restrains himself. _

_ "Don't have too much fun with Mo tonight," responds Wen instead, zipping up his keyboard bag, grimacing. "I might have to give you a beat down otherwise."_

_ Scott shrugs nonchalantly. "Can't make any promises. She's a wild one, Mohini."_

_ "Oh god," says Wen, disgust etched in his facial lines as he swings a strap over his shoulder. "Just – stop talking. That's _Mo_. Urgh."_

_ Scott laughs at him. "See you tomorrow man."_

_ Wen slips out without an answer, his mind battling between unwanted, conjured images and the dreadful, insistent pounding beneath his temples. The gold light fades with each step away from the auditorium; the darkness reemerges, submerging him in a sea of fear and shivers._

_ He walks home with goosebumps lining his arms._

* * *

><p><em>His heavy eyelids remain shut, his head in his arms, the desk cool against his face. Charlie shifts his neck to the right, his left arm suddenly the pillow, when he sees Olivia take a spot beside him.<em>

_ "What's up?" he says, his eyes still drooping and his voice hoarse. She opens her mouth, but closes it immediately without comment, grabbing a notepad and pen from her bag._

_ '_My throat is on fire_,' she writes. _

_ Charlie frowns. "Did you see the doctor? Maybe we should cancel the gig tomorrow – "_

_ Olivia shakes her head sharply, cutting him off with quick scribbles._ 'No, no, it'll be fine. I just need to rest it until then.'

_ "If you're sure – " Olivia nods, insistent, and Charlie shrugs. "Okay then. So what's up?"_

'Nothing – how are things with Victoria?'

_Charlie raises an eyebrow at the sudden question. "Fine, I guess. Why?"_

'No reason, just curious.' _Olivia smiles while Charlie quickly scans over her words. _'It's my job as your twin sister to be incredibly curious about your life. And to bother you about it.'

_ Charlie grimaces at her and her grin substitutes a laugh. "Which explains why I don't like you very much," he responds and Olivia sticks her tongue out at him. "You need to learn some manners."_

'I learn from the best, Cheezit," _writes Olivia, her wide beam teasing._

_ "Cheezit?" questions Charlie. "Really?" Olivia nods seriously, only the corner of her lips betraying her true intentions, and Charlie sighs. "I hate you."_

'Nah, you love me," _responds Olivia with scrawls. _'Don't bother denying it.'

_Charlie opens his mouth to do just that when wafts of flowers and hair spray itch his nose and he turns to find his girlfriend, a fake grin – although he'd never admit he sees the artificiality and the struggle in her face – plastered on her lips. "Vic, hey."_

_ "Hey Charlie," she greets him, only an edge of warmth coloring her soft voice. "Olivia," she nods at the other girl; Olivia smiles back brightly, but Charlie senses tension in her shoulders at the cold reception._

_ "What are you up to, Vic?" he asks his girlfriend, deciding to sit up straight again as Victoria takes a seat on his side opposite to Olivia._

_ Victoria shrugs, her shoulders stuck back and still, tightening Charlie's stomach in response. "I have to finish reading _To Kill A Mockingbird_ for English."_

_ "Oh, I love that book!" squeaks out Olivia accidentally. At Charlie's frown, she rolls her eyes and quickly scribbles, '_I love that book so much!'

_ Victoria blinks, surprised, her eyes a little skeptical, but her shoulders – and Charlie's gut – loosen. "Oh. Who's your favorite character?"_

'Probably Atticus. He's like the father I've always wanted,' _writes Olivia, handing Victoria the paper. Charlie has to commend his girlfriend for picking up on Olivia's note-taking so quickly and he's proud at how calm she now appears._ I knew Stella was being stupid – Vic's amazing.

_ "Is your father not around?" asks Vic, and while her tone is polite and genuinely curious, Charlie gulps. He tries to silence the interrogation with his eyes, but Olivia calmly lifts her pencil and begins to answer, although Charlie sees her back arc into the familiar shell._

'My dad's in prison.' _Her words are simple and Olivia seems collected, but Charlie can imagine her voice in his head, echoing with a sharp edge and numb frankness. Charlie shoots Olivia a questioning look, surprised that she'd admit her family history to anyone – least of all Victoria – but Olivia merely shrugs with a resigned smile. _

_ "Oh, I'm so sorry," says Victoria, uncomfortable. Charlie senses her inability to completely process the information, but he also knows the journalist is filing it away, contained in her vast amounts of mental storage. Victoria hastens her exit after that, her lips barely reaching Charlie's cheek for his goodbye kiss; her eyes are unable to meet Olivia's as a "see ya later," leaves her lips, a heavy silence left in her wake._

_ Charlie sighs loudly and turns to comfort Olivia, but she's staring straight ahead of her, her lips flat and her emotions inconclusive. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words sink back into his throat when she rests her blonde head on his shoulder. Instead he blinks, sighs again, and wraps an arm around her; he wishes good people didn't have to suffer through bad things._

* * *

><p><em>The night air chills his bones, sending shivers everywhere. But the darkness masks him, blinding everyone around him, and he flies to his destination.<em>

_By the time he reaches the lighted and chaotic house, his legs ache beneath him and his sweaty palm sticks to the screen of his cell phone. The lou__d, pounding bass welcomes him while the steady guitar riffs ease away traces of a migraine. He steps forward, through the door, and immediately a blonde figure ambushes him as the migraine reemerges again. _

_ "Scott, man," greets Ray, stumbling over his feet and his acrid breath tickling Scott's nose. Grimacing, Scott tenses at the attracted stares around him at his entrance, but Ray stands before him, completely oblivious to details and a dumb grin plastered to his face._

_ "Hey Ray," says Scott through gritted teeth. The music no longer sounds hypnotizing or melodic – the noise irritates his temples, the dull ache growing beneath them and nagging his thoughts. He spots two figures approaching their direction and immediately, unconsciously, Scott arranges his cheeks back to form the impression of a smile._

_ "Scott, I've been texting you for ages," squeals Jules, her blonde locks glittering in the strobe lighting of the hall. Patty walks silently beside her, merely nodding at Scott in greeting._

_ "Yeah, sorry, my phone's dead," lies Scott, his stiff arm quietly pocketing the device. _

_ "Well, you're here now – and man, do I have a surprise for you," says Ray, success etched in every word._

_ "What?" asks Scott as Jules interlinks their arms. He wishes that at least the cute Indian girl who'd been trying to gain his attention lately was at this party. _

_ "I've got us another song," answers Ray, a wide shit-eating grin on his face. _

_Scott's heart plummets in dread but his cheeks tense further into the semblance of a triumphant grin. "Awesome," he says, "let's hear it."_

_ "Later, man; first things first – " Ray spots an attractive, brunette wallflower near the back of the room and heads in her direction, lost in her eyes, the charm already at work. Scott rolls his eyes, suddenly alone with Jules and Patty, the latter quietly eyeing her drink with a bitten lip. _

_Just as the awkward silence is too much to bear, Seth Levine and Dean Eagler ram into him, Drew Michael eagerly following them. "Scott, my man!" greets Dean as the two slap hands. "Welcome to the par-_tay_!"_

"_Nice house," replies Scott awkwardly, eying Drew's awestruck expression suspiciously. He's never been comfortable around Dean, Mudslide Crush's drummer, since he always has some obnoxious or rude comment. But Drew – their backup guitarist, the guy that'd replace Scott _– like that'd ever happen _– just plain creeps him out, with his wide eyes and his constant need to follow Dean around. In Scott's opinion, Drew's just another mesmerized loser. Trying his best to ignore the puppy, Scott keeps his attention on Dean. "So Ray tells me he, uh, has a new song."_

_Dean and Drew exchange grins but Scott notices Seth anxiously rubbing his neck. Seth, the band's bassist, symbolizes everything Scott wishes he could be – class president, model student, moral and ethical citizen. So the fact that Seth plays for Mudslide Crush at all reminds Scott that people suck – it's a contradiction that he can never make sense of (he's stupid, after all, straights Cs and proud of it) but it somehow keeps the world in balance. Good and bad and lots of gray – whenever Scott doubts, he remembers and stops fighting the tape sticking to his heels, rooting him in place._

"_Yeah and it'll be a total killer," brags Dean. His eyes become unfocused, suddenly following someone behind Scott. "Speaking of killer – excuse me ladies," says Dean, the predator having found his prey. Drew chuckles before following his mentor onto the dance floor, talking Jules with him and Patty following. Scott eases beside Seth, who warmly smiles in return. Before either can strike up conversation, however, a short dork – obviously a middle-schooler – appears before them, an empty can in his hand and soda all over Scott's shoes._

_The anger spreads quickly but Scott forces himself to remain cool. Yelling and shouting wastes too much energy, takes too much effort – he cuts instead. "Wow, very smooth, idiot," he snaps. "Watch it next time, carrot-top," he sneers at the curly-haired geek. He thinks he hears a muttered "it's blonde, douchebag," but he lets it slide because his head is pounding and Seth is pulling him away._

"_C'mon dude, calm down, it's no big deal – " says Seth, pouring water onto the fire. But the smoke remains, and enflamed by the unwanted advice, Scott ignores him completely, pushing the smaller – but older – boy aside. He grabs a drink on his way out the door, downing the entire can without a thought or a care for the fire that burns his insides as the liquid flows into his system._

_The fresh air hits him, and the smoke picks up with each step away from the Eagler's house. But eventually the fire dies and the smoke clears – and then only the ashes remain._

_Seth doesn't follow him. No one ever does._


End file.
